Just us
by Kinglourious
Summary: Voldemort has won the war. Severus Snape wishes he could escape from the hell that has become his life. There is no hope. Except, perhaps, in the form of the past he thought was long dead. HGSS


**_Just us._**

When Voldemort defeated Harry Potter nearly five years ago the Wizarding World had gone into a state of celebration, at least on the part of the Death Eaters. Everyone else probably did not, but Severus would not know, he never saw anyone else except the Death Eaters after that day.

That first year after Potter's defeat was probably one of the best in magical Britain's history. For the first time since the Dark Ages magical folk moved openly amongst muggles, no longer hiding their magic nor restricting the use of it to other magical people. It was a prosperous time. Muggles were enslaved and were made to work. The

price of nearly everything dropped. Severus recalled a time where he could buy bowtruckle shavings for just a knut per pound. Not that he had much time back then to brew at all. He and his brothers of Death spent almost every night conducting raids to flush out the remaining members of the Order of the Phoenix.

He considered it a kindness when they killed them. Voldemort had erected an impenetrable magical barrier around Britain, which prevented any and all people from escaping through magical or non-magical means. It was a testament to the man's power, not one person escaped, and when they tried they would never rise to attempt it again. The only time his wand had wavered was when he and Lucius had cornered Longbottom, Severus was uncertain what had stilled his spell, he could not muster any emotion for the boy other than revulsion, and a lingering scent of exploded cauldron. Thankfully Lucius had stepped in where he had failed. Severus did not think much of the boy after that.

Eventually things are under control. There is no resistance. Severus holes himself away in his new mansion gifted to him by the Dark Lord himself. Ironically it once belonged to the House of Longbottom. He does not leave very often and it is not long before his hair has taken on its greasy appearance from the fumes and chemicals of his bubbling potions, his face becomes sallow once more and he forgets his voice.

He is indiscernible from the man who once served Albus Dumbledore, who once taught dunderheads at Hogwarts, who once sneered at Harry Potter and awarded points to Slytherins.

But at night, when the candles are blown out, and the cauldrons are simmering, he remembers, he remembers the faces, and the blood, he remembers the half-moon spectacles as they reflected the Dark Mark, he remembers the fire and the smell of rotten flesh. He remembers Minerva as she screamed. He remembers Potter as he died.

When he remembers weeps.

* * *

><p>It comes as a curious relief to him, when the newspapers begin to speak of a disease that is quickly decimating the magical population. It had started out as a small incident, the Malfoy child, Draco's, died curiously in the night.<p>

Severus had been there himself, had tried to save the child. But he had not seen anything like it before and thus had had no treatment for it. After that he was out every night attempting to save purebloods and their children. It soon became clear that he was either an atrocious physician or the disease was a viral version of avada kedavra. Although he spent most of his time at deathbeds he himself never found himself on his own. He was curiously immune to the sickness. This confirmed his belief that "the powers that were" were possessed of a very twisted sense of humour.

Unfortunately, the dramatic decrease in the wizarding population (which had already been fragile to begin with) created an economic slump that Voldemort could not resuscitate. They were plunged into a dark age so dark as to make the Death Eaters appear slightly grey. The population was on the brink of collapse and Voldemort was forced to create a series of laws that forced unmarried purebloods into a kind of arranged marriage that required the couple (but sometimes a wizard was married to more than one wife) to produce a required amount of offspring. In the shadow of Voldemort's terror most people obliged.

Severus himself was forced to keep a wife at home, a woman who was dumb as a cow, and got underfoot more often than he thought was absolutely necessary. She did not think much of him either and so they both stayed as far away from each other except for the times they were forced to perform certain perfunctory tasks. She was pregnant within a few months, and Severus wondered, not for the first time, if Dumbledore would've said at the sight of a Snape junior.

When it was possible to acquire rations Severus and his pregnant wife ate. Otherwise they lived in a largely empty mansion. He had long had to sell all the furniture.

He thought, more than ever, about his old life at Hogwarts. And then he would not be able to leave his laboratory for days, he liked to pretend he was still in the dungeons, and when his wife came to check if he was still alive, he pretended she was a student, a dunderhead, always a Gryffindor, and he would ask her questions about potion's ingredients in such rapid succession that she would run from the room as if he were hexing her.

Eventually his relative peace was interrupted again when news came, from the Dark Lord himself, that someone was killing Death Eaters. Convinced of the Dark Lord's paranoia, Severus did not put much stock to the rumour. It wasn't until Lucius was dead, his throat slit from ear to ear, that Severus began to believe.

The deaths were quick after that. Mulciber, Avery, Malfoy junior…

The Death Eaters themselves were being eaten.

Severus could not wait for the day the mysterious killer would come for him.

He was on call to a family whose daughter was dying of the disease. There were fewer cases these days, but then again there were fewer people to be infected. The girl was slipping away quickly and he had called in the family to say their final goodbyes.

She died quickly, but her family did not mourn. Wherever she was she was far better off. Death was probably warmer than this cursed life. There was no hope left.

He accepted it.

He was either going to be consumed by this disease, killed by the mysterious assassin or by Voldemort himself. He had no one left. His last hope had died with Harry Potter. His last ally with Albus Dumbledore. And all his dignity with Neville Longbottom.

He was already planning his death as he walked home, covered in the smell of death. The street was dark and there was no moon. There were no windows, and where there were once doors he saw only gaping darkness. He remembered this place had long ago been called Diagon Alley but he could hardly recall what it had looked like back then.

He tried hard to recall, maybe just a hint of what life had been like back then. He could remember little but darkness, ice and the metallic grit of blood. The evidence was there. He knew he must end it. At least in hell it would be a bit warmer than where he was right now. No one would suspect a thing if he died in a freak cauldron explosion, and if they did he would be dead anyway.

He found he could not walk much more anyway. His knees gave way, and his body fell hard to the cobbled street. He was remembering now. The people, and the shops, and the wands, and apothecaries and the smell of sweet butterbeer and the laughter of children. It was such a beautiful memory that he could not help but laugh at the thought of it.

He must have been a sight, lying in the street, laughing like a maniac but he was too far-gone to care. All he had seen in his life was death, loss and sickness.

He missed everything he had ever hated.

If he was ever re-incarnated, he would be good, he would be kind, he would never sneer or snarl ever again. He would give to charity and would start a soup kitchen for muggles. But please, he begged, just end it now.

His wish was granted far quicker than he had expected.

There was a thump. The knell of death?

Someone or something was suddenly on top of him and he could see the glint of a dagger in their shadowy hand. It was too dark to see faces and in his mirth, rolling about on the cold stone street, he had lost his wand.

"Kill me. It would be a mercy." He said. "Slit my throat, ear to ear, so that I may at least smile as I die."

"Ah you were a friend of Lucius' then? A bloody smile it is." The voice said, putting the dagger to his neck. It was a woman's voice, and a familiar one at that. He could not say from where but at least it was not a complete stranger who slew him, he took some comfort in that. He would be with friends as he took his final breath. He said as much to her.

The assassin stopped just before she could draw blood. "You think you know me, Death Eater?"

"I do know you. I've heard your voice before. It brings to mind feelings of intense irritation curiously enough. Were you perhaps one of my students?"

"Professor Snape?" The assassin said in sudden shock.

"Hm, so we have met." Severus replied thoughtfully. "Even better, you'll definitely want to kill me now."

The assassin rolled off him, and jumped to her feet. She was starting to back away, her hands raised as if in defeat. He could hear her uneven breathing.

"Actually I can't. I just…can't." She was muttering beneath her breath.

"Wait, don't leave! I want to die!" Severus called, half getting to his feet to give chase. He did not need to, she stopped.

"Severus Snape." She said as if it were the most wondrous thing in the world.

"Yes, I am him. Must we go over this? If you just killed me it wouldn't matter." But she wasn't listening.

"I never believed it. I never believed you betrayed us. You didn't. Did you? You couldn't have." The assassin was muttering.

She was clearly just as mad as Severus was himself.

He lost patience. "Hopeless. You're not going to kill me, are you?"

"Fine, just give me the knife I'll do it myself then." Severus said, sighing and getting to his feet properly to demand the knife from her. He picked up his wand in the process and cast an illumination spell. He at least wanted to be able to see his neck when he tried to cut it.

In the half-light he could now see his would-be-if-she-wasn't-so-half-assed-killer more clearly. She was about a head shorter than he was, and apart from that he could identify little else as she was tightly enrobed in black from head to foot. He could not see her face.

"No." She replied stubbornly. "I can't let you kill yourself until I know."

"Know what?" Severus asked exasperatedly. Would she just give him some satisfaction?

"Were you really a Death Eater? Did you betray us?"

"No. Is that the answer you wanted? Or should I say yes so that you will actually put _that knife to my throat_?" Severus said, his voice dropped to his usual sibilant murmur.

"I knew it. I knew Dumbledore was right in trusting you. I always did."

Severus sighed. "The only person who could be so hopelessly idealistic is that know-it-all Granger but she must be long dead by now. Perhaps you're her ghost returned to haunt me. You're just as insufferable."

At those words the assassin seemed to be having some kind of fit. Perhaps an asthma attack. He could hear curious gasping sounds coming from the general direction of her mouth but under all that obsidian fabric it was hard to tell.

When she peeled back the black cloth from her head, letting loose her bushy brown hair and revealing her terribly scarred but determined face, it was Severus' turn to gasp.

"My eyes deceive me." He could not help but say.

"But clearly your ears did not." Granger replies. She is staring at him with large, disbelieving eyes.

"How are you still alive?" He is compelled to ask. He cannot believe it.

"Luck. Incredibly bad luck." Granger replies.

"Ah. It appears we are in the same boat." He says dully. "This means I will definitely have to kill myself." He sighed. He half-expected her to agree with him, especially considering her desire to do exactly that just seconds before. She didn't. Instead, he could see her eyes brimming with tears.

He was mildly surprised.

"Please don't." She said, screwing up her face as she tried to wipe her eyes, which were clearly rebelling against her.

Too bewildered to even acknowledge her tears, he ignored them and said, "Why on earth not?"

She sniffed, and looked away, trying her best now to master her unsightly crying. "I'll be alone if you do. Truly alone. I couldn't bear to go back to that. You couldn't even begin to imagine what it was like for me."

"I think I have an idea." Severus murmured. They stared at each other, both still unbelieving. Perhaps they weren't completely alone in the endless darkness. It was a curious relief. She felt it as well and moved to hug him tightly. He couldn't even muster the self-restraint to shake her off. No. He couldn't stop himself from holding her desperately. He was scared she would disappear if he let go. This might not be real. It couldn't be. He wanted it so badly. It was something he had desired for a very long time. The warm, safe embrace of the past.

He missed his quiet chambers in the dungeon, where potions brewed for their own sake and not for Voldemort's poisons, and curses. He missed teaching, even the idiots like Longbottom who couldn't brew a cup of tea let alone a potion. He missed Dumbledore and his annoying twinkling eyes. He missed feasts, Quidditch matches and solitary Christmases spent reading. He even missed Potter, with Lily's green eyes. Now he could hardly even remember it. Or her eyes.

He looked down, into Hermione's. Into the past.

"What do we do now?" He asked the girl who was still clutching his shirt with both fists, and most probably wetting his clothes with her tears. "What do we do know that we're not alone? It's still hopeless."

He saw her for what she was. The only one left out of all her friends. Wandless. Lost. Causeless. Homeless. Brought to her knees by her birth and her choices. All she had was the blade- death.

But Hermione, her eyes dry now, whispered. "No. It isn't. Not anymore."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I never guessed I would actually evolve from merely reading HGSS fanfiction to writing it but it appears I have written two already (even though this one in particular was hardly romantic)! This was just supposed to be a oneshot where Voldemort has won, and Severus has given up all hope, but I can feel the inklings of a story here. Perhaps it will be more than a oneshot. In any case, I hope it was at least enjoyable and if you think so, please leave a review :)


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